Looks like we made it
by svartbil
Summary: It's twenty years into the future and a very special day lies ahead for Kyle and Cartman... and their son.


"For the love of Moses, will you hurry up, Eric! We'll be late for his excursion! And please sweet Bubbie, go put on your boots."

"But I need Rory!"

I sigh and rub my forehead. "There's no time sweetie, Rory have to stay at home."

"Nooo, I need him!" My short-tempered son whom I love more than anything but sometimes makes me lose it starts twitching in frustration, his nasal whining stings my morning-sensitive ears.

"Fine, go up and get him!" I exclaim a bit louder and sterner than the perfect collected parent I wish to be. The little overall-dressed figure instantly goes running up the stairs, tiny feet dodging past colorful children's books, business magazines, shoes in various sizes and plastic toys threatening to punctuate one's soles. How I always manage to trip over those stuff but he never does is a mystery. Hearing the thumping from the stairs Eric comes out of the guest bath, razor in hand and shaving foam smeared across one cheek.

"Where's he going?" He points the razor at the direction our son disappeared upstairs.

"He wants his bloody toy." I mutter and stride over to the stairs, sinking down on the bottom step. Eric hums and returns to his morning routine.

"Couldn't you have done that earlier? He's going to miss that outing thing!" I can't help from barking at my poor husband.

"Jesus Christ Kahl, I'm almost done! You want me to step into that office with half my face shaved?" His voice echoes from inside the tiled room.

"Well, by now you have no choice." I exclaim aggravated to the open door.

"Calm your Jew-ass down." He casually throws back from inside the bath room over the running water. I tsk at the reply and feel grateful that our son is upstairs. I hate it when Eric uses his rough language around him. I admit we both used to cuss undisturbed every now and then when living alone together. But since we became parents I have really made an effort to watch my tongue and I wish Eric would do the same.

The frustration of time pressure builds a pit in my stomach so I get up from the step again to fetch my son's tiny rain boots. Finally he comes scampering down the stairs with the ninja turtle doll clutched to his chest. He's not really that attached to the doll as it seems like, I think it's more of a security blanket for him. Kindergarten began earlier this week and he's about to go on the first outing arranged for the kids in the group to get to know each other.

"Hop in." I kneel down holding forth one boot for him. He skips over and puts one relying small hand on my shoulder while lifting one foot; his brown kitten eyes are thoroughly focused on the task. He wobbles but manages to shove the foot in. We repeat the process with the other one while Eric exits the bathroom with a spotless smooth-looking face. I guess he used the method where he completely screens me out and got the shaving nicely done, not even staining the Egyptian cotton shirt he's adjusting the collar of. It's one of his nicer ones, crisp white and paired with a brown silk tie. On the short time there was he also managed to drag some hair gel though his still thick brown hair, grown a little darker over the years.

He slides the hall wardrobe door open to fish out his dark grey suit jacket. The special meeting this outfit is picked together for is at the surrogacy agency, right after stopping by the school. I myself am also dressed too look my most presentable as a loving and economically stable parent. The last part especially expressed through a white shirt with its collar sticking out from under a dark green cashmere jumper, matched with a black tie and dark Italian suit jacket. Eric always says I look like the staunch Jewish accountant I am especially when I pair suit jackets with knits, but I've decided it's my thing.

When all coats, backpack and brief cases are at hand we move out to the driveway where our car patiently waits for us. Mine and Eric's sleek attire must look funny next to our son's robust outdoor wear. We're not one of those snobbish parents who dress our child up in frills and couture, despite living in an area where it's not uncommon. Growing up in a mountain town with rough weather the year around and often playing outside both Eric and I know the importance of clothing that can be worn and torn before easily being thrown away. You can basically just clean off his overall using the hose in the backyard.

"Gee, I hope we'll not be too late. Do you have your lunch with you now? And some extra socks…" I go on rambling to our son on our way to the car but in front of the driver's door Eric comes close, takes my head in his hands and cuts me off with a long kiss. For a staggered moment my breath holds up but then seeps out through my nose along with my sinking shoulders and eyelids.

"It's fine, we'll make it." Eric says soothing close to my lips, warming my cheeks within his palms before kissing me again. "But I'll drive. You'll just crash the car in your hurry." He smirks and thieving snatches the car key from my grip. I give into him and take my place in the passenger seat.

It was a good idea to let Eric drive because he's made the route to the school before unlike me, which I didn't have in mind in my haste. During the ride I glance at our son through the rear view mirror. Technically he is Eric's son, or more precisely coming from his genes. All the stuff we went through for this kid… Years of finding an agency willing to help us, moving to the state where it's legal for me and Eric to commit the procedure, then finding an egg donor and finally a surrogate. We didn't have somebody we knew giving us an egg, we thought that would feel weird. Instead the agency put us up with an anonymous donor. We had no specific requests of heritage apart from Eric wanting the donor to be Caucasian. That was not negotiable for him. And as mentioned we chose Eric to be the Intended Father. His genes won over my diabetes (no matter what, predisposition for obesity is not clinically considered heritable).

Our son turned out with a lot of Eric's features and due to Eric carrying the genes for it, our son actually has a distinct reddish tone in his light brown locks. Everybody thinks it's adorable. One could almost think that he was the biological son of both of us. And having grown out of the childish contempt for red hair years ago, Eric claims us to be his most precious gingers, which sounds ridiculously corny. But I like it.

"Are you excited, Bubeleh?" I ask with my head turned to a quarter.

"Uh-huh…" He answers long-spun and pensive. "When will I get a little brother?"

I smile tenderly. "It will take a long while but you will have one."

"How long?"

"Perhaps by Christmas next year." I give him a very optimistic estimation. Although this time it will possibly take a shorter while than the last with having him, since we will use the same reliable agency. "Think of him like a present worth waiting for."

"A damn expensive present that is." Eric chimes in muttering and takes a sip of the coffee in his on the go thermos.

"Which will be all worth it!" I retort in an emphasizing tone. He's right though, the costs are not small. Despite both me and Eric having higher than average incomes there's been a lot of saving through the years for the procedures. We're talking an amount of tens of thousands of dollars. We savored it with only one car, small suburban home and our vacations have mostly taken place with family in Colorado or New Jersey.

Eric was also at first reluctant to the thought of having a second child, himself growing up like a spoiled single child and all. But I convinced him how fulfilling it is to have a sibling and how fulfilling it would be for our son. Plus I think Eric has always secretly wanted a bond like Ike and I share. Eventually when even our little son couldn't think of anything else than the prospect of having a little brother it was the last straw.

Eric pauses for a moment then turns his words to our son.

"What would you say if you had a little sister instead?" Eric's voice is always softer and brighter when talking to him.

"I want a brother." He states a bit troubled.

"You can't decide that." Eric grins and our auburn-haired boy starts fidgeting in distress.

"There might as well be a brother." I add tossing a glare at Eric which seems to calm down our kid in the back seat.

"I hope there will even be a kid considering all the money we pump into that damned agency." Eric states cynically. Our son instantly burst out into a delighted heartwarming laughter.

"Damned!" He repeats proudly. I groan out loud.

"I swear your whole language will rub off on him before he turns six." The brightly innocent hiccup-like laughter keeps tinkle in the back, caressing our eardrums.

"I will be very proud of him if it does. Shows whom he takes after!" Eric flashes me a wide smile.

"Which is a huge problem." I sigh.

"Relax, Kahl." Eric squeezes my knee with his free hand after putting down the thermos. "You can raise the other one." His smile is teasing and a twitched wink occurs in his gleaming eyes. All these years and he still haven't lost his spark provoking me.

* * *

Our car pulls up next to the sidewalk in front of the gates.

"Nice building." I exclaim impressed from seeing it in person for the first time. It is small put stately pompous with reddish frontage and huge sandstone verges. It must be among the town's buildings of older lineage.

"Told you." Eric says while unfastening his belt and gets out of the car. Our little champ in the backseat unfastens his belt by himself and proudly slides out of the seat when his taller dad opens the door for him.

"Eric! You can't get out in the middle of the street!" I scold while stepping out on the sidewalk. Eric groans and with one strong arm he lifts up our son before coming around the car and drops him down on the pavement next to me.

"There, everybody is safe." He grunts. Our little boy has his kitten eyes directed at the gathering of about fifty other kindergartners inside the school yard. The children are swarming about among teachers dressed in rain coats and parents in their work wear. We're obviously not as late as I thought.

"Shall we go?" Eric asks. I give him an inquiring look.

"Both of us?" Eric gives me a sly smirk and after a few seconds I mirror it. Simultaneously we go "Yes!"

This will be fun. Our son still is a bit too young to feel awkward about having two daddies when everybody else has just one.

I clutch his mitten-clad hand and we follow behind Eric who walks up to one of the teachers. Apparently someone he recognizes from the introduction day he attended to instead of me. The teacher is a late twenty-something woman with a bright red raincoat and has her blond hair up in a high bun. She's talking with two children already standing paired together. Eric clears his throat audibly and she turns around.

"Excuse me miss, do you know where he should be?" He asks pointing at our son who's timidly clenching on closer to me when her eyes land upon him.

"Certainly." She takes out a list clipped to a board from being clutched under her arm and she scans through it with a pen. "Cartman-Broflovski is it?"

"That's right."

She nods and checks the name off the list. "That's a lovely name. Reminds me of my grandma's last name Borkowski." She chirps and Eric tosses a glance at me.

"Thanks. Is it Polish?" I interpose and she looks at me with both pride and a hint of confusion.

"It is. So Broflovski is your name?" She asks aiming the pen at me.

"Yes, and he's Cartman. We don't share last names." I explain a bit coyly. The teacher nods slowly but still appears confused so Eric chimes in.

"Maybe I should introduce my lovely husband and my son's other dad; Kyle." He states conventionally polite while motioning his hand in front of me. A light of clarity spreads over the teacher's face. It's a priceless expression I never get tired of seeing.

"Oh, ducky!" She exclaims and reaches out her hand to me. "It's nice to meet you sir." I shake her hand with a kind smile. Then she kneels down with her own warm smile in front of the little fellow holding tightly onto my hand.

"Do you remember me from yesterday?" She gently asks and our son nods his head carefully. "I'm your teacher Miss Gardener and you will be in my class. You follow behind me on this trip." She takes a quick glance at her list. "Now, we will put you together with Rory, he will be your buddy. Shall we go find him?" She asks with a reached out palm. The brown kitten eyes are directed up to me.

"He's name is also Rory." He expresses with a joyful face that I can't help but meet with a wide toothed smile.

"Yes, sweetie. Go to her." I nod at Miss Gardener. "His doll is also named Rory." I state referring to the plastic ninja turtle still clutched in my son's grip.

"Oh, what a coincidence! That must be a good sigh." She exclaims while grasping our son's little outreached hand. "Let's go say hi to him. But maybe you wanna say goodbye to your… daddies first?"

Without responding he turns around facing me with open arms, I instantly get down on my knees and hug him tight.

"Will I have a little brother when you come back?" He whispers with a tremulous little voice.

"Yes." I declare into his fuzzy hair. "Have fun sweetie." I say when we let go. Then Eric crouches down when our son turns to him.

He places a stroking hand on the little one's hair and gives him a peck on the cheek. Then he whispers something to him in a voice he must think I can't hear. But I can just barely make the words out "Take care, Poopsikins."

* * *

Eric and I stand together by the car, watching how the teachers struggle from bringing order among the chatting children. The morning sun has just peeked out from the gray clouds and tosses a warm mesmerizing shine through the red and yellow foliage in the school yard's trees. It certainly brings a sort of melancholy feeling upon me.

"This is where the two ends of the circle meet." I state with arms folded and a dreamy look on my face.

"What do you mean?" Eric turns to me and I meet his gaze, taking a moment or so before speaking.

"Kindergarten is where you and I first met."

A smile slowly creeps out on Eric's face and a small puff escapes his nose. "That's an overwhelming thought."

I guess so.

We keep leaning against the car to the echoing sounds of children's bright voices, car doors slamming shut around us and engines starting.

"Do you think he'll make some friends?" I ask.

"For sure, that Rory kid sounded like a keeper." Eric answers. "Everybody knows that the best friend comes first." He continues.

"Yep, and then the rival. I hope he's fat." I snicker and feel Eric's hand brush against the back of my head. I duck from its slap and laugh delighted at him. Lighting up from seeing me smile Eric pulls me in close to him and begin massaging the nape of my neck with his hand. Then he gives up a very audible sigh.

"If only he doesn't bring home any goddamn Jew." He snorts with a smile.


End file.
